After Mother died, Father brought me back to the Marquis Manor.

Knowing he was in the wrong, he was chased around the entire estate three times by the furious Marquise brandishing a blade, leaving him black and blue from the beating.

But the Marquise’s anger was far from spent.

The long blade, fueled by her rage, swung toward my face.

I was terrified, yet I didn’t dare to cry.

With my eyes squeezed shut, I tremblingly held out the handkerchief I’d been clutching, offering it to the tip of her blade.

The Marquis had told me that as long as I gave the Marquise the gift I’d prepared with all my heart, she wouldn’t be angry with a little child like me.

But it seemed the Marquis was wrong.

Because when the Marquise saw my handkerchief, her chest heaved, her breath came in heavy rasps, and her eyes widened like copper bells. Her beautiful face twisted into a mask of fury.

“Good heavens, are you trying to kill me with rage?! What on earth is this embroidery supposed to be?!”

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